Wonder Guy: Fairy Godmothers' Union

By Naomi Stone

'Once Upon a Time' meets DC Comics when Greg's fairy godmother grants him superpowers - just to impress the girl next door. 

Gloria is engaged to marry someone else and Greg can only respect her choice in the matter - until Serafina, member in good standing of the Fairy Godmothers' Union - pops in with a different idea. 

As a mysterious, masked superhero Greg can appear to Gloria in a whole new light and win her love. But super-heroing is trickier than Greg knew, creating its own problems and drawing the attention of inimical forces he never knew existed. He may balk at filling the role the Fairy Godmothers' Union has planned for him, but he'll have to discover the true hero in himself before he can win at this game.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Wild Culture Press
• Release date: Mar 6, 2018
• ISBN: 9781386335283

Naomi Stone

Naomi Stone lives and writes in Minnesota and is an accredited member of the Romance Writers of America.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

HI, GREG!" GLORIA TORKENSON’S grin flashed past like sunshine off a moving car—hot and bright, but gone in an instant.

A full-body electric jolt slammed Greg Roberts to a stop. All thoughts of his mission vanished. Behind him, the screen door into his mother’s kitchen clapped back in its frame. He hadn’t expected he’d find Gloria here this early.

She turned back to her discussion with Aggie, their heads together over sketches they’d strewn like battle plans across the tabletop. Probably the latest artsy-craftsy project she had going with his mother. Aggie, as usual, too absorbed in talk to notice her only son, never looked up.

The topic of their conversation didn’t register. His gaze locked on the creamy column of Gloria’s neck where it emerged from the low collar of her blouse. Her throat formed a subtle line sweeter than any asymptotic or hyperboloid curve he’d studied as an undergrad. The murmur of her voice undercut all logic to turn his tin-man core into something closer to a lion. Her faint perfume of rose blossoms and citrus and her sun-gilded hair pulled his attention like iron-filings to a magnet.

Their conversation belonged to the world of e-commerce and public forums. Amazing how Gloria existed in that mundane context, yet embodied a whole alternate universe of her own where ordinary laws of physics did not apply and her eyes held alchemical powers to ignite heat in a stone.

He’d waited too long, content simply to be near her. Speaking of his feelings had never seemed right. They’d been little more than children when he’d first noted affection sprouting into something more. Back then, she’d only begun to turn from girl to woman.

But now the only world he shared with Gloria was this common one. He turned his attention finally to the discussion.

This is your best idea yet, Aggie said, her wheelchair hitched in close under the specially designed worktable replacing the former kitchen table. I know where we can order more of this clear vinyl.

Terrific. Gloria pulled her chair in, the legs scraping against linoleum as she scooted closer and wrote rapidly in the margins of a sketch. How many should we make for a start?

Hmm. A few different colors. What’s our market? Aggie rummaged in a pile of sample books on the shelves behind her and opened one displaying vari-colored swatches of fake leather.

Greg shelved a useless sigh. At least Gloria had acknowledged him. His mother had yet to look up since he’d entered the house. Not that she’d have missed the slam of the screen door.

From the sketches visible over Aggie’s shoulder, and their talk of clear vinyl, he understood the new project. They planned to add window pockets to their designer cell phone holders. Most of their customers were women. Pretty rhinestones, appliqué or beadwork decorated the majority of their customized Cell Shells, but this design might appeal to a wider audience.

Pink, sky blue, yellow, violet... Gloria jotted as she spoke.

Daring to broach the girl-talk walls felt like taking his life in his hands, but he was going in. Greg found his voice.

Don’t forget us men. We’ve got cell phones, too. He nodded at the sketches. Guys will like these. They can carry an ID card in the window pocket, or tell the world you’re on their last nerve—but not in pink or baby blue.

Oh, hi, dear. Aggie turned to smile absently at him.

Okay, okay. Gloria wrinkled her nose, sticking her tongue out at him in a gesture she’d used since they were six-year olds. Since then, it had only grown in its powers of provocation.

Black, brown, red... She turned back to Aggie. Navy blue and forest green. How many is that?

Before either Aggie or Greg answered ‘nine,’ the door behind Greg rattled under someone’s fist.

Oh, that must be Pete. I asked him to meet me here.

Come in! Aggie called at the same moment Gloria spoke.

Greg stepped aside, further into the kitchen, and nodded a mechanical greeting to Pete Jensen, Gloria’s fiance.

Greg had no explanation for the way he bristled like a wild boar around the fellow. He couldn’t put his finger on anything specifically objectionable about Pete. Pete constituted an enigma to be studied, maybe not actually dissected, but certainly observed closely. There had to be more to him than met the eye. How had this bland specimen managed to win the heart and hand of the incredible Gloria—the sassiest, brightest, sweetest girl in the world?

* * *

Gloria gathered up her sketches, her excitement bubbling over. This project might be the one. The one to get her out of her stuck-in-limbo-between-career-heaven-and-grindstone-hell job as an administrative assistant. The one to show her father how wrong he was with the way he dismissed her hopes and dreams. She tucked the notes into a thin leather portfolio and the portfolio into her shoulder bag.

Pete liked her ambition. She shot him a welcoming smile as she gathered her sweater up along with the bag. She’d been lucky to find a solid, respectable guy who made her feel like a glass-bauble safely wrapped in cotton wool. She liked his friendly smile and his nice suit. Pete had a nice, solid, responsible job as a junior accountant with a firm allowing plenty of room for him to grow to be a senior accountant. He treated her right, often making small romantic gestures like sending flowers and chocolates. Pete represented everything she wanted, certainly more than her father thought she deserved. Pete was perfect.

Bye, Aggie. I’ll be back later and we can get started on the prototypes. She bent to give the older woman a warm hug. Since she’d lost her own mother at the age of twelve, Aggie had been there for her in more ways than she could count. She’d needed her kind neighbor’s support after being left alone to take on too much responsibility in a household her father neglected.

She hugged Greg too, hovering there like her personal domesticated Sasquatch. She tousled his caramel blond hair, though she needed to stretch to reach it these days. You need a trim, my boy.

Do I? He looked up as if he might see his own head. Well, maybe he saw his hair hanging across his forehead.

Definitely. You’re looking scruffy again. Don’t you want your professors to take you seriously? Sometimes dealing with Greg seemed like dealing with a child. How could he be so smart in some ways, a graduate student in computer science no less, and yet miss so much?

They do take me seriously, and half of them are scruffier than this. Haven’t you seen pictures of Einstein? She’d heard him before, venting his frustration at having to live in a society obsessed with appearances, valuing hulks who carried inflated pig bladders across a field more than they valued a technical genius. His tone now evoked the whole rant.

You know what I mean. Aren’t you applying for grant money? They don’t just look at your ideas. You’ll have to meet with people. They’ll look at what kind of person you are, no matter how brilliant it is to make a computer go super fast.

The speed of light. Photonic computing is the obvious next step for laser technology.

Yes, that. You listen to me this time. She exchanged a frustrated glance with Aggie, who’d long since given up on reminding her son of these things. How could the boy be smart enough to think up speed of light computers and be absolutely helpless when it came to living in the real world? What would he do when she wasn’t around to look after him?

I always listen to you. The intensity of the look in his mild brown eyes made her gut do a jig.

Well, we’ve got to go. See you later. She turned to her date, who’d stood at the door, without speaking to anyone while Gloria made her goodbyes. C’mon, Pete.

The neatly dressed and trimmed Pete held out his arm for her, and finally gave a wave to Greg and Aggie. Good night, folks.

* * *

Did you need something, hon? Aggie drew Greg’s attention back to the familiar kitchen.

He turned away from the door through which Gloria had vanished with the obnoxiously well-groomed Pete. Oh. Right. Did the delivery guy leave my bread with your grocery order?

Why didn’t you check the bread box? Aggie gestured to the counter behind him. It’s in there, crowding my sesame semolina loaf.

Thanks, Mom. I’d better get back to work. Greg grabbed his loaf of whole wheat. I got a three day weekend and still put off grading papers until the last minute.

He waved to Aggie and left before she started looking too pointedly back at her project. He headed across the back yard, where the low-slanting rays of the sun cast their lingering glow, to his apartment above the garage. He did have papers to grade, and at five o’clock, he had the whole evening to finish his task.

First, he’d better hit the road. He needed a good ten miles of furious pedaling right now. It was hard enough that he didn’t stand a chance with Gloria, but seeing her go off with someone else intensified the ache. He had to stop thinking about her. Pretty soon she’d be out of his life. The thought knotted his gut. No granny knot easily pulled loose, but a good, solid square knot that wouldn’t let go.

He usually welcomed the quiet of the garage, dim and dusty, but safe harbor for Aggie’s specially equipped SUV and his bike and gear. This evening it seemed too empty, despite the surrounding gear and his apartment waiting above. No life. He’d left all the liveliness behind at Aggie’s. Here, he’d welcome even the company of a mouse. Maybe he should get a dog, make sure he’d come home to a warm welcome rather than this hollow space that might as well be a hermit’s cave.

Setting the bread on top of the deep freezer, he grabbed his helmet from its hook on the pegboard and turned to lift down his prized Trek Valencia 24-speed road bike.

A tinkling, like bicycle warning bells, sounded at his ear, startling him so he nearly stumbled, only catching himself before he knocked into the little old lady who stood at his side.

Jeez Louise! If this were a cartoon, he’d have to climb down from the rafters to get back into his skin.

Whoops. She laughed. We almost had ourselves a collision there.

He stared, mouth slightly ajar. He’d be politically incorrect to think of her, a no doubt empowered senior citizen, possibly as militantly feminist as his mother, as a little old lady. She looked as if she might blow away in a strong breeze, stood hardly as high as his shoulders, even with the ostrich feather arching above the gaudy purple hat perched on her snow-white hair. Despite the twinkle in her eye, something in her demeanor warned him to mind his manners. How else to think of her, but little old lady?

At least she gave him a moment to recover from his near-rafter experience. Sorry, he said, I didn’t see you there. He dangled his contour-styled helmet by the chinstrap, having forgotten why he wanted it.

Oh, I wasn’t there. She gave a charming, tinkling laugh, which awakened an answering grin in him. She evoked images of every birthday-present-giving, story-telling, cookie-baking grandma he’d ever imagined.

So, where were you? Had she been waiting for him out of sight?

Somewhere else. I just popped in to help you with your little problem. She waved a hand upward, to the ladders lying across the garage rafters and his apartment above. Why don’t you ask me up?

I’m on my way out. What problem? One of the pre-test problems? You’re not in the advanced computing class are you? No way he’d have missed her among the students he helped as teaching assistant to Professor Morrissey.

No, no, dear. She took his elbow, a strong grip for someone of such frail appearance, a grip he’d sooner have expected from a bar room bouncer. Why don’t we make ourselves comfortable while we discuss it? I wouldn’t mind a nice Mountain Dew Code Red.

How the hel—heck had she guessed what was in his fridge? Greg replaced his helmet on its peg. It looked like his ride would have to wait.

Are you one of Mom’s friends? He managed to keep ‘weird’ from modifying friends. His mother had grown up on a commune, and knew more than her share of dropouts, burnouts and one-time hippie freaks.

The pressure on his elbow increased and he found himself moving to the stairs leading up to his apartment.

I’m here because your mother made a request handled by my Society, she chatted in her bright, Sunday-school tones, staying close to his side as they mounted the stairs.

Society? He dug in the pocket of his windbreaker and found the jangling bunch of keys there.

The Fairy Godmothers’ Union, True Love Local.

What? He turned to face her, key in lock. His tone rose a couple steps in pitch. Is that some kind of dating service?

Now, now. It’s not like that at all. Your mother is only worried you’ll stand aside and let Gloria marry someone else. She’s concerned you’ll lose your chance for True Love.

His nerveless fingers would have dropped the key if he hadn’t already stuck it in the lock. What did this strange little old lady know of his feelings for the girl next door? Feelings he’d never mentioned to Gloria, or his mother and would rather not admit even to himself. How could he possibly speak of anything that confused him so utterly? He had no words for how he felt about Gloria.

Ever since Gloria had accused him of being clueless regarding matters of emotion, he’d tried to pay more attention to his feelings. This was a new one. Interesting. Elevated heart rate, cold sweat, fast, shallow breathing. It would be much the same if he’d come face to face with a tiger in the wild. All this from mentioning ‘true love’ in conjunction with Gloria’s name? Yep. Must be fear.

He drew a deep, steadying breath, finding his voice at last. What has my mother said to you?

She said, ‘I sure wish my boy would grow a pair and tell Gloria how he feels.’ This brought the matter to our attention. The feather on the gaudy cap brushed his nose.

Greg sneezed.

The sprightly woman reached past him and turned the key.

He fell forward, half stumbling into his apartment, fumbling in body and mind alike. The lady followed before he’d decided whether to invite her.

Uh, have a seat? He gestured to the loveseat arranged with a pair of comfy chairs around a coffee table, and the pair of stools at the kitchenette counter, which, with the loaded bookshelves, managed to fully occupy the small apartment. He steadied himself with a hand on the counter. This would probably make more sense if he let her explain herself. He hoped.

Can I get you something to drink?

The Code Red would suit nicely. Her eyes twinkled as she smiled.

Uh, right. He snagged the last two cans out of the fridge, passed one to her and wiped the condensation off on his slacks. He sat on the comfy chair opposite the loveseat where she perched. He had to get this conversation on track somehow.

So, you’re one of my mother’s friends? Must be. She had to be confused. Her bustling manner had fooled him into thinking her something out of the ordinary.

He popped the top of his can.

No, no, dear. No, I’m here on your behalf. Let me introduce myself. She fumbled in a small beaded handbag, pulled out a white card and handed it to him. I’m Serafina, your fairy godmother.

Just as it said on the business card: Serafina, Fairy Godmothers’ Union, True Love Local 521.

I...see. But he didn’t. This made no sense. It must be some kind of joke by one of his mother’s definitely weird friends.

You will. Don’t worry. Serafina took a dainty sip of her Code Red and snorted as the bubbles hit. It’s simple, really.

I hate to rush you, Greg took a swig of soda and leaned forward in his chair, but I’d like to get out for a ride before I start grading papers.

Don’t worry, dear, this won’t take long. I know how you can win your love.

You’re here to rescue my love life? If it weren’t so outrageous, it would be laughable.

Yes. She went on in perfectly sober tones, You’re a good boy. You’ve probably been telling yourself you want only what’s best for Gloria and you’re happy for her because she’s found someone she wants to marry. We both know you’re only fooling yourself.

The words jabbed him like a fork. Soda sloshed from the can he clutched too tightly. He wasn’t fooling himself. He was a good boy, er, man, and he did want what was best for Gloria. This was too much.

Look here. He fumbled for something to say.

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. You’ve loved Gloria since you were twelve and you want her for yourself.

It doesn’t matter what I want. He spoke with a degree of force that surprised him and waved his can of soda, gesturing wildly, spattering the vicinity.

Serafina never flinched as a flying droplet narrowly missed her face.

If Gloria doesn’t want me, we’d never be happy together. The words escaped him like a cry from some forgotten fragment of his soul.

Just so, Serafina continued, unperturbed. But you’ve never given her the chance to want you. You’ve always been there for her, like a brother. She thinks she knows everything there is to know about you. There’s no mystery.

She does? He slumped heavily into his chair and drained the last drops from his can.

That’s right. We need to use a little fairy godmother magic on you to get her to look at you in a new light.

Gloria thought what? This was crazy. The old woman was crazy. What she said was crazy. Only a crazy person would do anything else but show her the door.

I’m listening, he said.

CHAPTER 2

WHERE PEOPLE GATHERED, ELYSHA, who considered herself a genuine people person, found ample opportunity to stir up the kind of energy she feasted upon. Invisible to human eyes, she strolled among the tables under the banner reading Christ Church Memorial Day Picnic .

The sun shone warm, the cooling breeze blew soft, and picnickers filled the park surrounding Minnehaha Falls. They sat around laden picnic tables under the pavilion and on blankets scattered across the oak-shaded lawns. They stood around barbecue grills, ran after Frisbees, lounged in portable chairs, strolled along paths, and hiked the trail beside the falls.

A woman with gray strands threaded through her brown hair frowned, etching the lines of the expression into her face, at a paunchy, slightly balding man sitting beside her at a picnic table. His back rested against the table, one elbow propped among half-emptied bowls and trays. His gaze followed the actions of two young women tossing a yellow Frisbee back and forth across the expanse of lawn between them.

The older woman, watching her male companion focus on the younger women, radiated insecurity. As good as an invitation for Elysha. She whispered into the woman’s ear, He’d rather have her than you. See how he looks at her, so young and beautiful? He doesn’t look at you like that anymore.

The woman’s frown deepened. She slapped the man’s shoulder. You’re making a fool of yourself. You think she’d look twice at an old fart like you?

What? The man’s face showed only puzzlement as he turned to his companion. What are you talking about, Laura?

Elysha hovered near, smiling as she drank in the growing conflict. The woman’s fear and defensiveness, the man’s growing annoyance. He’d been paying only casual attention to the Frisbee players. Now, as his partner called his attention to their youth and beauty his interest in them only grew. Delicious. A tiny push from Elysha and Laura had exacerbated the situation, feeding into her own insecurities.

Appetite whetted on the petty jealousy, Elysha wandered away from the arguing couple. The younger children at the picnic looked up when she passed, but then looked quickly away. Her passage made a shadow on their games.

She paused near a scrawny young male who sat alone with his back against the bole of an oak, in the shade of its broad-spread branches. He seemed nearly adult, but not near enough to be accepted as such by the older humans. Resentment—and something darker—fumed from him. Elysha drew up beside his tree, leaned over his shoulder and whispered, None of them care for you. You might wander down the creek and into the woods and never return. No one would notice.

I could take a swan dive over the falls onto the rocks and nobody would notice, her prey muttered. Not until they have to deal with the mess.

His darkness deepened, thickened like a pudding, weighted with a deep conviction that he deserved none of the notice he craved—so rich. She really shouldn’t. Elysha savored the treat.

Well you don’t care for them either, do you? Who needs them? she whispered.

Donny! A child’s voice called out across the lawns. Get over here! A bare-kneed, bare-footed, tow-headed girl of perhaps ten years ran toward them across the emerald velvet of the grass. The teen looked up, his sour expression shifting to something softer, if non-committal.

You said you’d push me on the swings. C’mon. The waif shied at the shadows where Elysha drew back. Donny rose.

Oh all right. His tone complained, but without conviction. Got nothing better to do.

What are you talking about? Didn’t you get some barbeque chicken? There’s ice cream sandwiches in the cooler. Their voices faded as the young man trailed away in the wake of the voluble girl.

Oh well. Something interesting might yet come of this one. Elysha’s whispers had a way of sticking in a person’s mind.

Hmm. She caught the sweet perfume of self-righteousness wafting from a knot of women who stood around a grill where a large man in t-shirt and Kiss the Chef apron flipped burgers.

The women looked of an age to be the parents of some of the children racing around. She drew close enough to hear their conversation. Mmm, yes. Bolstering their imagined superiority by clucking over the misfortunes of a neighbor. Tasty.

* * *

You’re familiar with moving pictures? Serafina asked, tilting slightly toward where Greg sat across the coffee table. Marvelous what they can do with them these days.

Um, yes? Not just out of left field, this change of subject must have crossed county lines. Well, he could still show her the door, in a minute or two.

Did you see the one where the ordinary young man suddenly acquired superpowers, and the young lady he always secretly loved noticed him when he appeared as a mysterious masked hero?

Yeah. The one? A whole list came to mind. You’re not thinking I—?

Yes. She spread her lace-gloved hands wide in her enthusiasm. That’s just what we’ll do. A dashing costume, a few crimes stopped, and Gloria can’t help but be intrigued, and when she learns it’s you—

It all falls flat. Greg rose to his feet and paced the small area between their seats and the kitchenette. I can’t tell you in how many ways that’s a bad idea. Wait. Let me try. One, I’m not a superhero! I’m not cut out to be a crime-buster. Two, I’d look like a fool in a costume. Three, Gloria is too sensible to go for some stranger because he’s dressed up like a superhero. Four, This is Minneapolis. I’ve lived here my whole life and never even witnessed a crime in progress, let alone been in a position to stop one.

Stop, stop. The tiny woman fluttered a hand at him. You’re going too fast. The first thing is, you will be a superhero. I’ll give you a superpower and a costume.

What? Lady, you seem very nice. The fight whooshed out of him with an exhaled breath. He dropped into his chair and leaned toward her across the table. It’s nice of you to want to help save my love life, and all, but you’re confusing fact and fiction. Just because they do it in the movies doesn’t mean...

The words faded in his throat as she rose from the sofa—and not in the ordinary way. She remained seated, legs crossed demurely at the ankles, but floated a good three feet above the cushions.

He set his soda can carefully on a coaster on the coffee table. He blinked a few times, goggling at the unbelievable, but each time his eyes showed him the same sight. A falling sensation swept through him. His legs might have gone out from under him if he hadn’t already been seated.

Uh. He cleared his throat at the squeakiness of his voice, and continued at a more normal pitch. Okay. You’ll give me a superpower. Either she was crazy or he was. Better play along. What did you have in mind?

I thought you might like to pick something for yourself. Wrinkles, like